Fully Seen
by Firebird9
Summary: Jack and Phryne had a deal... coda to The Certainty of Things Yet Unseen.
1. Chapter 1

**Fully Seen**

**Author: **Firebird9

**Rating: **M

_This is the sequel to 'The Certainty of Things Yet Unseen', and is pretty much pure smut. For anyone who hasn't read 'Certainty': following events in 2.12, Jack and Phryne finally admitted their feelings for one another and commenced a relationship. Jack was promptly shot and has been recuperating at Phryne's. He's more or less recovered, and Mac has just advised him to get plenty of 'vigorous exercise' before returning to work in another week._

* * *

"I swear," he ground out, "if it weren't for this damned bullet wound I'd have my way with you on this bed right here and right now."

"And who's to say I wouldn't be the one having my way with you?" she challenged, and felt his fingers tighten on hers.

"I will make a deal with you, Miss Phryne Fisher," he told her in a low voice. "When Dr. Macmillan pronounces me fit to return to... normal activities... I will let you do whatever you want with me, if you will allow me to do whatever I want with you in return."

She grinned wickedly at him. "Now that's one deal I'm willing to accept." (The Certainty of Things Yet Unseen, Ch.9)

...

"I seem to recall that we have a deal for you to make good on, Miss Phryne Fisher."

She chuckled her delicious, sensual laugh. "And what do you intend to do with me, Inspector Robinson?"

He turned her towards the stairs and gave her a gentle push. "You'll find out soon enough," he replied huskily. (The Certainty of Things Yet Unseen, Ch.13)

...

He walked behind her up the stairs, his hands roving over her body but turning her back around whenever she attempted to turn and touch him. They had made a deal, and tonight he was in charge. Only when they were in her room with the door closed behind them did he allow her to turn towards him, fixing his lips on hers in a hungry kiss as he began to undo the buttons on the back of her dress. She reached for his buttons in return, but he pushed her hands gently but firmly away.

"Not tonight," he told her, as he assaulted her neck and ears with his mouth. "Tonight it's my turn to do whatever I want. Although," he swept her dress from her shoulders and let it pool around her feet, guiding her backwards away from it, "I don't think you'll have any complaints."

She gave a low moan of anticipation and arched against him, but he stepped back slightly. He had seen her in her lingerie before, but Phryne tended towards impatience by that point in the proceedings, and usually he had only a quick glimpse before she began tearing it away. Tonight he intended to take things at his own pace, and that included taking the time to admire her in her silk camisole and knickers, her garters and stockings. So now he held her in place with his hands upon her waist and drank in the sight of her. She swayed towards him to kiss him, and he chuckled and arched back slightly, denying her his lips. She made a low sound of frustration and pouted at him.

"Impatient," he chided, moving her back towards the bed.

At his encouragement Phryne lay back, her eyes never leaving Jack. She had wondered what it would be like when it was his turn to make good on the deal they had struck weeks ago, when his injuries prohibited all but the most chaste of intimacies. Now she knew. It would be slow, torturously slow, and, unlike most men, Jack was unlikely to be swayed by her pouting and blandishments. She would have no choice but to let him take his time. Her body already heavy with desire, she could only watch as he walked around to the foot of the bed, gazing down at her as he slowly loosened his tie.

He removed his clothing as he looked at her, watching her watching him, her lips and legs slightly parted, her breasts heaving with desire. The word 'wanton' came to mind, and he smiled to himself. It suited her perfectly. He sat on the foot of the bed to remove his shoes and socks, then turned back to her as he slowly and deliberately unbuckled his belt. Her breath hitched and her hand brushed down over her breasts and belly, questing towards the juncture of her thighs. With swift hands he rebuckled his belt and knelt over her, body not touching hers, to catch her hands and draw them above her head.

"None of that," he chided. She pouted at him. "Will you be a good girl if I let you go?" He loosened one hand and trailed his fingers down her arm and side to rest on the outer side of her thigh. "Good girls get rewarded," he added suggestively.

She moaned and tried to arch back up into him. He removed his hand from her thigh and gently pinned her wrist again. She could have broken free if she had wanted to – he would never have done it otherwise – but he knew she wouldn't. This was a game, nothing more, and it was one that they were both going to win, but she had given him her word and he was determined to hold her to it. Weeks in her house had given him plenty of time to think about this, and plenty of opportunity to peruse some of her more indelicate publications for ideas on exactly how he wanted to play it. Now he kept his hips back from hers and leaned his face in just close enough that she couldn't quite reach to kiss him.

"Phryne? Are you going to behave yourself?"

She continued pouting for a moment more. "Fine," she acquiesced, mock-sulkily.

He smiled and moved back, trailing his hands down her body as he did so, feeling the hard peaks of her nipples and narrowly skirting the damp silk between her legs before travelling down to her ankles.

"Oh, God, Jack."

He froze, hands still on her ankles. "Say that again, Phryne," he breathed, running his hands back up her legs to just above her knees. "Say my name again."

She had tilted her head back in pleasure, but now she gazed down her body at him. "Jack," she repeated, and then, as his fingers caressed her thighs. "Oh, Jack."

Swallowing back the urge to rip away the rest of her clothing and finish with her right then and there, he stood again and removed his trousers. Now they were both clad only in their underwear, and he caught her ankles and pulled her down the bed so that her legs hung off the end. With trembling fingers he unclipped her garters and rolled her stockings down. She moaned and arched, but made no further effort to touch herself, and he smiled. After almost two years of watching her defy him at almost every turn it appeared that he had finally discovered the secret to rendering Phryne Fisher compliant. He wondered what George Sanderson might have made of that.

He ignored the increasingly-soaked fabric of her knickers and stood between her thighs to remove her camisole and brassiere. She had knelt in a similar position once, when she had helped him undress for bed on the day he was discharged from hospital. Then, he had been helpless to do anything in the face of her teasing. Now, he was determined to avenge himself.

He ran his hands down over her breasts again, her nipples hard as pebbles beneath his fingers. He caressed them for a few moments, hearing her moans and pleas grow more desperate, less coherent. His cock was hard and aching, but that could wait. The anticipation would only serve to intensify his pleasure, as it was serving to intensify hers. He knelt and leaned forward, his body pressed against hers, and closed his hot mouth over one nipple, causing her moans to become a cry that he was sure would carry beyond the closed door of her room. He dismissed the thought. Jane was in Europe, and it was not as if the rest of her household were ignorant of their relationship. If they didn't like it, they could always stick their heads under their pillows.

He laved one nipple, then the other, before trailing his kisses down over her belly. Her cries were louder now, more desperate, and taking a moment to raise his head he saw that her hands were balled into tight fists against the covers. He pulled her knickers away and discarded them, examining her sex from mere inches away.

"God, Jack, please!"

He flicked his tongue out, barely touching her clit before withdrawing, tasting her on his tongue. This was something he had never done before, but her books had done a thorough job of convincing him that it was something he wanted very much to try. Her flavour was distinct, and he knew he would never forget it. She cried out again when he tasted her, even louder than before. Yes, her household would definitely be aware of what they were up to tonight.

"Please?" he smirked, his hands holding her legs in place.

"Please, Jack, please!" she repeated, and he closed his mouth over her, the fingers of one hand joining it, working and stroking until one particularly loud moan informed him that he had found what she wanted and he focussed his attention on that one sweet spot.

He heard his name again, amid pants and gasps, and felt her thighs tremble with tension until, with a last sudden cry, her whole body seemed to shudder, an earthquake that had him at its epicentre and extended to every fibre of her being.

He pulled away and kissed his way slowly up her body as the shudders abated and her breathing slowed, until he claimed her mouth and let her taste herself on his lips. She kissed him eagerly, but when she reached out to embrace him he pushed her hands away once more.

"We're not done yet, Phryne," he told her. And then, at the gleam in her eye, "move back up the bed."

She complied and he moved to the night-stand, retrieving the case that contained her diaphragm. He handed it to her, holding her gaze. "Put it in," he told her.

He had seen her place it before, this illicit thing that took sex from something which a couple used to make babies to something which they enjoyed purely for the pleasure it could give them, and it never failed to excite him. Now his nerves were singing, his body at fever pitch, and he knew that once he finally entered her he wouldn't last long at all. Her eyes on his, she obeyed him, and he closed his eyes and moaned at the sight. Yes, she was wanton, this wicked, wild woman of his, and he wouldn't have her any other way.

He took the empty case from her and set it aside before finally freeing his aching cock from the confines of his underpants. Her eyes lit up at the sight of him, hard and proud, and he smiled and let his fingers linger lightly on himself. It was an unspoken assertion of his dominance in this game – he could touch himself, as well as touching her, but she was prohibited from touching either herself or him.

"What shall I do with you, Phryne?" he mused, as he knelt between her thighs. Her fingers twitched on the covers as she fought the urge to reach out and touch him.

"What do you want to do, Jack?" she challenged softly, and now it was his turn to ball his hands against the covers as her words brought him perilously close to the edge. He opened his eyes – when had he closed them? – and gazed down at her, knowing exactly what he wanted. He wouldn't last long, but with her at fever pitch as well that didn't have to be a problem.

"I want you to touch yourself," he told her and then, when her hand moved at once to follow his instruction, he stopped it. "I want you to touch yourself when I'm inside of you."

He entered her then, slipping easily between her slick folds, and her fingers found their way to her clit as soon as he was in position. He moved gently once or twice, feeling her and letting her feel him, and then he began to thrust.

"I've waited, Phryne," he told her, in time to his movements. "Waited so long for this. Waited so long to have you. I want you forever, my beautiful, wicked, wanton woman. I want you..." her second climax had already shaken her into incoherence, and now his own swept him away and brought him down on top of her in near-collapse at the sudden release of tension. "I love you, Phryne Fisher," he murmured between kisses, as the last aftershocks ran through him. "I love you with all my heart."

He didn't need to tell her that the game was over – she knew that she could touch him now. With lingering kisses and last murmurs of pleasure and love they fell asleep wrapped in one another's arms.


	2. Chapter 2

She knew he was expecting her to take her revenge on him the following morning, and in a way she did, removing herself from the bed almost as soon as they awoke. If there was one thing which she had long ago realised was invariably true, it was that the way a lover made love was a strong indicator of the way they secretly desired to be made love to. That Jack had teased her, working her anticipation and his own to a fever pitch before finally granting them release, was enough to tell her that he would enjoy a little excruciating teasing of his own.

And so she rose, bathed and dressed all whilst managing to somehow never quite remain within reach of his questing hands. She was, however, careful to throw him enough sultry glances and give him enough lingering kisses to ensure that he didn't misinterpret her actions as an indication that she was in any way displeased with him. After last night, displeasure was the farthest from her feelings.

At the breakfast table, she waited until he was preoccupied with his tea and the newspaper before kicking off her shoe, sliding down in her chair, and running her foot up his leg. He choked slightly on his tea, and she shot him an innocent look even as her foot made it past his knee. That he knew she couldn't reach quite all the way up only served to intensify his sudden surge of desire.

She continued to tease him all day, enjoying the sight of him attempting to conceal his growing frustration. He knew what she was doing, of course, but she was all innocence whenever he attempted to raise the subject.

"I thought I might let you sleep in your own room tonight," she told him after they finished their evening drinks, and had to repress a smirk of satisfaction at his quickly-hidden disappointment.

"If you wish," he replied, and she could see him wondering just what game she was playing.

She gave him precisely two minutes, then slipped in through his bedroom door. She had timed it well, she realised: he had removed his jacket and was just about to unknot his tie, but was otherwise fully clothed.

"Why don't you let me help you with that?" she suggested, and his hands immediately dropped to his sides. She undid the tie slowly and pulled it away. She set it on the dresser, then stood close to him, her hands resting lightly on his chest as he regarded her. "What would you like me to do now?" she asked.

She had given considerable thought to what she would do with him when it was her turn to do whatever she liked, and this was what she had come up with. Jack Robinson, the man who always thought of others and seldom asked anything for himself, would have whatever he asked of her tonight. The only catch was, he would have to ask her first.

He cocked his head on one side, clearly not understanding. "Phryne?"

She gave a throaty chuckle, and wrapped her arms around his neck. "You may need to be a little more specific," she purred, and then, when he remained silent, ran her fingers down the buttons of his waistcoat. "Would you like me to take your waistcoat off?" she asked.

"I... yes, Phryne, I'd like it if you did that."

"Then say 'Phryne, I'd like you to take my waistcoat off'." She didn't want him to plead, but the phrasing was deliberately polite. Jack's innate courtesy was something she appreciated greatly, and the last thing she wanted was to force him into vulgarity against his will.

"Phryne, I'd like you to take my waistcoat off," he repeated, and she complied at once.

Once it was removed she stood waiting. "Shoes?" she prompted after a moment.

He nodded. "I think so." And then, when she didn't move, "Phryne, I'd like you to take my shoes off please."

Well, if he wanted to say please she wasn't about to complain. After all, she thought, 'manners maketh the man', and Jack was quite a man. She knelt slowly and removed first one shoe and then the other.

"I'd like you to take my socks off as well, please," he added, unprompted. In this way his shirt and singlet were likewise removed, and then she saw him hesitate.

"Well?" She cocked her head on one side.

"What if I were to ask you to remove some of your clothing?"

She gave him a flirtatious look. This was what she had been hoping for. "Why don't you try?" she suggested.

He swallowed, then, as though he couldn't quite believe what he was saying, uttered "I'd like you to take your dress off, Phryne."

She complied at once and stood in front of him in the lingerie that she had let him see her putting on that morning, lingerie that was almost twin to the set that he had admired so extensively the night before. Now she posed in front of him, preening, encouraging him to look at her again, but when he reached out for her she shook her head and stepped back slightly. "Uh-uh. You have to _tell_ me what you want first."

"I want to touch you, Phryne."

She took a half-step forward, letting him see that she was ready to take it back again in a moment. "Touch me how?"

For the first time, frustration entered his tone. "Dammit, Phryne, am I going to have to ask you for everything I want tonight?"

She smiled coyly at him. "Why, Jack, I do believe you've grasped the situation most admirably."

Evidently deciding to let desire override restraint, at least for the moment, he responded "I want to touch you all over: your hips, your waist, your breasts, your... your buttocks."

She chuckled again and stepped forward into his embrace, feeling his hands at once curve around to the last-mentioned area, but when he tried to kiss her she pulled her head back. "You didn't ask," she reminded him.

This time, he chuckled ruefully and leaned his forehead against hers. "May I kiss you, Phryne Fisher?" he asked, with exaggerated precision.

She leaned in until her lips were brushing his. "Certainly."

They moved backwards towards the bed until his knees found the edge and he sat down, pulling her onto his lap. "Sit on my lap, Phryne," he instructed, his lips barely leaving hers, before she could even think about moving away. After a moment his hand moved to push up her camisole, and she broke their kiss and pushed it away.

"Uh-uh, Jack," she said again, and he rolled his eyes.

"Take off your underwear, Phryne," and although he did not say please there was no mistaking the pleading mingled with the amusement and exasperation in his tone. She wondered whether he realised that his request was sufficiently general as to cover everything she was still wearing, with the exception of the shoes which would have to come off anyway to make way for the rest, and rose languorously to stand before him. He had enjoyed looking at her the night before, she remembered, and enjoyed having her watch him, so it wasn't much of a stretch to realise that he'd also enjoy watching her undress herself. She kicked off her shoes, then shimmied her camisole over her head before unclipping her garters and resting one foot and then the other on the side of the bed to roll down her stockings, being careful to stay just out of easy reach of his hands. The look on his face told her that she had him spellbound.

She stood before him again to remove her brassiere and knickers, and then remained where she was, naked, letting his eyes drink her in.

"What would you like me to do now, Jack?" she prompted, when it seemed that he was going to sit and stare all night. And then, when he seemed to have trouble thinking of an answer, she rested one hand suggestively on her thigh and let the fingers of the other pluck lightly at her nipple. "Would you like me to touch you?" she asked. "Or would you rather I touched myself?" This was dangerous ground, she knew. If he resisted, if he told her he couldn't go on, she would end the game on the spot and they would make love in a more conventional manner. She wanted him to talk to her, to hear his delicious voice asking aloud for her to do all the things that she knew he desperately wanted her to do, but if he wasn't willing then she wouldn't press the issue.

But he swallowed and managed to whisper huskily "touch yourself, Phryne. Touch your breasts."

Tilting her head back she obliged, rubbing her nipples between her fingers, then cupping and squeezing lightly. She slipped one hand down over her belly and looked at him.

"Yes," he nodded. "Yes, that too, Phryne, please."

Well, it wasn't quite a descriptive, but she knew when to stop pushing her luck and dipped her hand between her thighs for a moment. He watched, lips parted, breathing heavily.

"My trousers – take my trousers off, Phryne." There was a new note of urgency in his voice, and she moved to kneel before him, doing as he asked, admiring the way the fabric tented over his erection. He groaned as she undid the buttons on his fly and arched back so that she could pull them down. "Underpants too," he ground out.

She obliged, then remained where she was between his thighs. She too remembered the day he had arrived in her house, and she suspected she knew what he wanted. The question was, she thought, as she kissed his inner thigh and glanced at him expectantly, would he be willing to ask for it? After all, it was hardly something decent, respectable men asked of a lady, although plenty of less-reputable men had asked it of her in the past. Sometimes she had obliged, sometimes not, depending on the man. If Jack asked, she would most certainly oblige.

He groaned as her lips quested closer. "Yes, Phryne. Oh, yes please."

She looked up at him in feigned innocence. "Yes please, what, Jack?"

He hesitated. Could he really ask that of her? he wondered. She didn't seem unwilling, but still... "You don't have to," he told her.

"I don't have to what?"

He arched his head back. "Phryne, please. I love you, and I swear I'd never make you do anything you didn't want to do, but I need- I want-"

Now her smile was tender as her fingers ran lightly over his skin. "I know that, Jack. But," she pointed out, "you haven't asked me to do anything yet,"

He drew a deep breath, obviously steeling himself to issue the request, but she knew when enough was enough, and her mouth was already closing over him. His hips jerked up convulsively at the sensation. "OhJesus!"

He looked down at her working him, something he had thought he would only ever see in his imagination, and then only in moments of particular weakness. And yet there she was, kneeling before him, doing something illicit, and disreputable, and thoroughly amazing. He was close to the edge, and managed to gasp her name again in warning. "Phryne... Phryne!"

She squeezed his thigh in reassurance and continued. She wanted to taste him, as he had tasted her the night before, salt and bitter in her mouth as he reached the heights of pleasure, and a moment later she got what she had been waiting for. She felt his trembling hands stroking lightly through her hair as she swallowed the last of him and pulled slowly away. "Phryne... Phryne." And then, as he caught her arms and helped her to her feet, "I want to hold you, my love. All night long."

She chuckled. Given the state she was in, she had a bit more than just holding in mind, but she let him draw her beneath the covers and into his loving embrace. They could get to that later.


End file.
